


Across the Sea

by Veebee3



Category: MindCrack RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, some of the characters are barely mentioned o-o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veebee3/pseuds/Veebee3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick blurb based in my fantasy AU. The ship Glydia brings a couple of different passengers to different sides of the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Genny sat at his oaken table, sulking over the weight of the air, the sway of the world. Ships were by far his least favourite mode of transportation, making him sick and seeming to serve no purpose but to get him away from his home. But they were the only way across the Great Sea, and so Genny accepted it, trying to focus on his numbers.

Ten vials of glowstone dust. Six crates of redstone. Another crate filled with pouches of cactus dye, and another again filled with iron swords. A smattering of paintings he had acquired as a gift. Six barrels of heavily salted mutton. Three chests of iron ingots, two of unrefined diamond ore, one of carefully packed and sealed inkwells. A sack of rabbits feet, and another of their pelts. A few stacks of woolen blankets. All was in order; Genny gently closed the thick old book in which he kept inventory before pulling out a pouch, and something that was more of a bag. One held emeralds, the currency Genny preferred, and the larger bag diamonds, the currency of the land he now traveled to. He began counting the emeralds. Each one was crudely but surely crafted, a small, uniform symbol carved on their front faces, and they were about the size of the last digit of Genny's thumb. They shone under candle light,

"1... 2... 4... 5... 10..." He muttered to himself, gathering piles of the gems. Quickly the total came out to 128. Most of his wealth would be back at his home, this was simply pocket change; and 128 was a good, lucky number, Genny thought. His business in the other land would go well, it boded. He numbered the larger diamonds more quickly, each one fitting snugly in his fist, their amount less, and less important.

With all of the numbers checking out, the hermit made out to retire. The ship was not cheap - a swift beast called Glydia - and Genny’s cabin was large because of it. Some meters from the desk was a bed of wool, and Genny was grateful his day would end with no more encounters with the Captain, or worse, the ships rowdy crew. The old merchant hobbled to his bed and layed down, trying to forget about meagerness of the floor separating him from deep, deep waters.

An uneventful week later, and it was over. Genny oversaw the ship' crew as they unloaded his cargo, moving it to carts pulled by horses, and as usual he said as little to the captain as possible. Beside him was Anders, a burly sell-sword who had been taking emeralds from Genny for years now, and who was nearly always at his side. The merchant’s bones ached from the journey, and he hoped to find an inn soon.

A market sprawled behind the port, haphazardly situated on a gentle but present hill, mostly populated by fishermen or other, poorer merchants. Even Genny's haul, though smaller in amount than usual, would net him more diamonds than those stalls' wares. Oh yes, diamonds. Genny thought it an odd thing to trade materials over a true currency, but he could not change the way of a kingdom,

"Excuse me!" he called, smiling, to a passing man in a flour-dusted apron. He looked a little rushed, and had a lumpy sack slung over one shoulder,

"Me?" The man asked, glancing behind himself. His voice jumped in pitch, cracking,

"Yes! You look like a chef, am I right?"

"I'm the castle cook, in fact," The man confirmed proudly. Genny grinned back,

"That’s great!" well, there were worse jobs, at any rate, "would you be interested in some mutton? It's only cuts of the best quality," the cook made a face,

"So you're from across the sea? Sorry, I don't think any of the lords here are fans of sheep meat, especially not from a voyage,"

"Are you sure? A diamond a barrel, you won't find a better price for meat, - I guarantee it," the cook glanced at the barrels, making a second face,

"Sorry guy, I don't even carry that around with me," Genny inwardly sighed, although outwardly he didn't break his upbeat character. Regardless, the man with access to the King's food was a valuable contact indeed,

"It's not a problem at all. Might I get your name?"

"Beef Vintage, sir,"

"Genny Erik,” Genny took the man’s hand and shook it vigorously, “Great to meet ya!” and the cook was on his way.

The merchant had other reasons for visiting the kingdom besides trade. It would seem that the crown had, for one reason or another, borrowed some amount of wealth from Genny; in fact, while he still had a great store of emeralds, he was near broke of diamonds, and that was never a comfortable place to be. Yet, the port was far from the castle, wagon or no, and the ship ride had left Genny deeply tired, and so, he sought out the nearest inn. It wasn’t difficult; once past the market against the water, true tall buildings of cobblestone and timber rose from the ground, and perhaps the 6th or 7th had a sign hanging outside proclaiming it as an “Inn”. Genny looked back at the boxes and bags loaded on the cart, and at Anders. He would need more protection. He struggle down from the cart and stepped inside the inn. Tables and chairs and people were scattered inside, most every one holding an ale, and the noise from chatter drove into Genny’s skull. Raising his voice, he announced,

"I bring wealth for any man who would protect my wares," A half-silence fell over the common room, and some gruff looking man called back,

"Diamond?"

"A vial of glowstone dust, a valuable resource," Genny let his voice run up and down, as it always did when he tried to sell something, but any of the men who were warriors had no need of the alchemical ingredient, not to Genny's surprise. Reluctantly - for he had very few - the merchant was about to offer diamond, when a man cloaked in black stood from a table,

"What kind of protection do you need?" His voice sounded scratchy, low, and amused; his hair was short and dark brown, and a U-shaped beard bordered his face,

"Just for some carts, overnight," Genny looked at the other suspiciously, as he began to close the gap between them, dodging tables and drunkards,

"Nebris Snow-man, at your service," Nebris shook Genny's hand heartily, and again the noise rose as patrons of the tavern began focusing on their own matters again, "A vial of glowstone dust you said?" Genny nodded, looking the man over. First of all he was entranced by deep, violet eyes, as bright as any enderman. But second he saw that the man had no armour or weapon to be seen,

"Don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t look like the type to be guarding nothing,” The strange man smiled at him,

“People around here wouldn’t challenge me. I fight for justice, and justice doesn’t fail,”

“Justice is great, but I’m gonna need some real proof that you can fight,”

“A man doesn’t need to display his weapons,” Genny was unimpressed; Nebris rolled his eyes, “An enchanted dagger, see? And potions,” Nebris lifted his robe; underneath, at his hip and on a leather belt, was a gleaming diamond blade, alongside several bottles. Some had curved necks, indicating splash potions,

“Fair enough,” Genny succumbed, “Outside are my carts. There should be a big man with them already. Mess with me and you answer to him,” Nebris seemed taken aback by the threat,

“Noted. I thank you,” The man was off, his dark gray doublet flaring when he turned. Genny stood for a second, questioning his decision, before he ordered an ale.

After the first ale came a second, but Genny didn’t drink beyond that. He knew his limit, and with wealth like his he daren't get too inebriated. Besides, he was still tired. On his way up to the room he paid for, someone stopped him with a tap on his shoulder,

"Hey-" Genny turned back around to face the source of the low greeting. A man was there, with distinct silvery hair and two mismatched eyes,

"Uh, hi?" Crimson and navy. What was with this continent and odd eyes?

"Do- do you know who you hired?" The stranger asked, speaking quickly, glancing side to side. Genny had to wonder if he was drunk,

"You mean that Nebris character?"

"Yes. You-you don't know him? Of him?" The squeak of his voice reminded Genny of the cook he had met,

"Not more than I do of most sells swords,"

"Well, just, be aware. People say he's a black mage, and I-"

"Oh really, is this because I'm a hermit?" People on this side of the sea always assumed the worse about those on or from the other side, the so-called hermits. The other's eyes widened,

"No! No, it's about him not you, look- why else would he want glowstone?" Seeing more closely, Genny noted the scars on the stranger’s face - one went across the crimson eye, another on his lip, a couple across his cheekbone. His eyes were creased in what looked to be sincere worry. Genny relaxed again,

“Well, I thank you for the warning. So long as he uses his magic for me, however, all should be well,” The other looked grim, but surrendered,

“Alright. S-sorry to bother you,” he ducked away. Genny continued up the steps, hoping for a featherbed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ship Glydia has brought another passenger across the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't actually intended to be a chapter on its own, but I think its the easiest way to switch POVs so there ya go. hopefully its not too amateurish ^^;;

Bdubs was parched. He kept trying to swallow without success, to summon some kind of saliva, but his mouth remained dry as sandpaper.

"You know I don't deserve this," he'd said before, on the ship, "release me," he'd chanted to his captor. "Please, release me. Cut my binds, that's all you need to do," but the men made to bring Bdubs into exile were unwavering. Eventually, the vessel landed on the continent of hermits, although near no town nor city. Bdubs was marched for a day into the barren desert, and then left for the skeletons. By then he'd passed out from exhaustion, and by the time he had awoken, the sun had nearly beaten him to bones. But if Bdubs had one thing, it was resolve.

His hands and nails were caked in sand and dust, and the nail on his left index finger constantly threatened to break off. To the horizon on every side of Bdubs was sand, and sandy hills. Above him was a bleak, unrelenting sun, just beginning to reach the end of its course. Below him was the hole he had been digging, against the will of his burning up body. He had hit sandstone, thank Notch, and had some hope of shelter before night came. He knew, then, what he'd have to do, but didn't want to think about it. Instead he focused on making himself a home beneath the sand stone layer, alternating between kicking into rock, moving it out of the way, moving away sand that trickled in, rinse, and repeat.

The King flickered in Bdubs’ thoughts for a moment, but in that moment his strength nearly failed, and his body almost managed to scrounge up some precious water for his eyes. Bdubs couldn’t let either happen, and so he went back to digging. As the last light escaped the desert, first bathing it blue, then black, Bdubs found he could curl against the cooling sandstone wall, and at least have some kind of roof. He noted that there seemed to be little to no moon out. A fear sprouted in the pit of his stomach. That was when the worst began.

Distant moans started to sound, alongside clacking and footsteps that were only possible to hear because it was otherwise silent. Bdubs shuddered as a particular low groan increased in volume, slowly, slowly. He could see nothing, and his heart was pounding; he could hear the dragging footsteps of a monster. The dark magic that seized the land alongside night was almost palpable.

A slight breeze brought the smell of rotten meat to his nose, the groan was in Bdubs’ ear, and suddenly the fingernails of a cold hand were gripping his arm. Bdubs snapped to attention, and punched the creature. He couldn't see anything; but his little sandstone nook was limited in space so that any swing forward was like to hit his enemy. Once and again he threw his fists at the zombie, soft flesh sloughing off as he did. It roared in pain, trying to bite Bdubs arm; the exile again hit it, and another one killed the creature. He threw the zombie off of himself, pulling away, shuddering. Bdubs retched painfully, and tears filled his eyes. Panic filled his body as he desperately wished for light, his eyes searching to make out any sort of shape, but then a sudden primal instinct took over. He scrambled to find the remains of the mob. In the back of his mind a voice screamed no, you can’t eat the putrid meat of a monster. But Bdubs had no choice. He gripped a slice of rotten flesh, and opened wide his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genny's point of view is caught up to, and a plan is set in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was like "I'm gonna finish this fanfic no matter how bad the ending is" but then I realized that what I already had written basically concluded it anyways so here's what I already had written

Genny reclined in the cushioned, luxurious chair. The ache in his back that began ebbing away brought to mind his voyage to this strange land. He almost laughed when he remembered the hard wooden chair he had sat in, and the thin woolen mattress he had slept in. Now he had this miniature throne, as well as a bed big enough for five.

It had been months since then, and Genny had been working. The first week in this land had been fruitless attempts at getting the throne to repay his debt. He saw King Boulderfist many times and each time was waved off. Eventually the merchant suggested that the least the Crown could do was offer him a room to stay in, and Boulderfist obliged.

Now able to roam the castle, Genny had started meeting people. If he was going to get anywhere, he needed connections, and most important of those he met became the King’s right-hand man,

“Who are you, again?” Said man had been wearing an expensive-looking grey doublet. It had white lines streaking up and down, and bright emerald buttons. Clothing was important to Genny. Usually it spoke wonders of how much wealth a person was entitled to, and in this case, the man wasn’t poor. In his hands, Genny noticed last of all, was a quill that still dripped ink,

“Genny Erik, of the Land of Hermits,”

“All right ‘Genny’, what’re you doing in the King’s castle?” His voice had a peculiar slur to it, not strong enough to make him hard to understand, only enough to make his words flow together. Genny had smiled,

“I’m owed a large sum of diamonds, but I promised to lower the debt if I had a place to stay,” The other’s eye’s widened,

“Ahh, so you’re that Genny Erik,” The man beamed as if he had known all alone. “Glad to meet the man whose bleeding us dry. My name’s Bdubs One-Hundred, I’m sure you’ve heard,” Bdubs had a hostility in his words that wasn’t matched in his tone. Genny could tell that his blunt self-appreciation was a joke… and he had to match it,

“Well, a magnate such as myself rarely hears of people of your caliber. But you may have come up once or twice,” They both smirked. They both shook hands. At once, they came to an understanding of each other.

Genny had known he couldn’t stay friendly forever.

Genny halted his memories as he stood up from his chair, and seized his wooden cane. It was dark oak wood, the likes of which he could only find in this land. The ache in his back had calmed enough that he felt he could walk, and reminiscing wasn’t accomplishing anything. He left his room, walked down a vast corridor, down steep stone steps, down thrice more corridors. For a while he wondered if he was lost, the damned castle was so large, but after a time he came upon the strong oaken doors of the wizard's room.

When Genny had hired the purple-eyed man all those weeks ago, he hadn't expected to ever see him again. He guarded the carts faithfully, and so Genny paid the man his dust and was off to the castle. Despite what he did or didn’t expect, it was days later that he met the man again - Nebris. That was his name.

Genny knocked on the door. It opened; the wizard was there, a slight yellow glimmer on his hands,

"Ah, hello," he smiled. After his eyes, that was Nebris' most memorable quality, that constant upturn at his mouth,

"Nebris." Genny stepped inside, angling himself against a wall. Nebris closed the door, and Genny launched his attack,

“We have to act soon. I can’t stand this waiting. If you don’t do something soon, I’m inclined to remove my backing,”

“Woah, slow down. This is a gradual process, but the paranoia is setting in - trust me,” His voice was gravelly. He smiled.

“Well frankly I’m not sure if you’re talking about my paranoia or Guude’s,” Genny retorted with his own voice, so buggy in comparison,

“Guude’s. The spell won’t work on a strong-mind,”

“And remind me - how will this spell cheat a King of his kingdom?”

“I’ve told you,” Nebris started, stepping over to a brewing stand and snatching one of the steaming bottles, “Guude simply admits that I'm his estranged older brother, and the true heir to the throne. I take the crown, and our lackeys in the court take care of any naysayers,”

“You repay what I’m owed - and compensate for what I’ve given you,”

“And gift you a high seat in court, if you decide you’re so inclined,” Genny didn’t reply. The mage’s potion had worked sure enough on Bdubs One-Hundred, the man who would drink a hundred drinks if it meant defending his title. His mind had been drunk, and stressed too, and thus weak. By Nebris’ suggestion and in an unbelievable turn of character caused by the potion he tried to assassinate the King. “It has lingering effects,” Nebris had explained beforehand, “so even afterwards he’ll have difficulty figuring out why he did it.” The taste of betrayal was still bitter to Genny. He had liked Bdubs, and was loathe to see him exiled, though not as much as the King was. He was probably dead by now. “My friend,” Nebris said after the silence, “you have to understand that I grew up a commoner. Most commoners don’t care much for royalty, but there are still those of us that crave power. For me, it started with this art that I learned years ago. Since then I’ve risen. How many commoners do you see in this castle?” Genny continued to glare at Nebris. “Right. So there is your proof that I get what I want. It’s been inevitable my whole life, and it’s not about to change,” Nebris lifted his bottled concoction to his eyes. The glass was steamy, the liquid inside translucent, dark, and colorless. The man’s striking amethyst eyes glimmered strangely behind it, reflecting torch light almost like a cat as they scrutinized the substance, “The First King will be gone soon.“ He continued, returning the potion to the brewery and turning back to Genny. “He will be lost to darkness and magic, but my truth will be more important. I will sit on that cracked throne, and I will have an entire kingdom to myself. I will be a King. And yes, you will be repaid,”

Despite his impatience, Genny still wasn’t ready when Nebris finally did go through with the plan. A few days had past proceeding their discussion. The weather was stormy, perfect for riling up the King’s apprehension. Guude Boulderfist held court, sitting atop the throne. The skillfully carved chair was getting the title of the Cracked Throne for the fat, lightning bolt-shaped fracture splitting down its center. Guude’s fingers danced on the hard armrests and he sweated relentlessly. He waved off a lady’s request for men to guard her stronghold, and before the next petitioner could step up Nebris was at his shoulder. He told Guude that the potion would help his nerves, so the King gulped it down without second thought. He took a breath. His fingers stopped. The damage from his sweating was done, but his eyes seemed clouded over. The rest was a dream to as much to Genny as to Guude, completely surreal. Nebris and the king had a muttered back and forth. The guards at the Throne were shifting their armor, casting suspicious glances around the room. The King decided he had an announcement. Nebris was the heir to the throne. That made no sense, or so thought everyone in the throne room. The lords, the ladies, the traders, the tradesmen, all who sought a word with the King were stunned by his sudden statement. But armored sentinels reassured them with high spears and unsheathed swords. Chaos ensued, barely controlled. Nebris hadn’t able to buy off the King’s closest guards, but a deep crimson concoction threw them in fits of pain so that they weren’t a problem,

“I am your King!” Nebris shouted. Someone shouted something back, and one of Nebris' lackeys stabbed him.

The castle didn't go easy, but Nebris' men were deathly loyal, and Guude reassured his own men that he had resigned. Few people trusted his commands... But if you don't trust your king’s commands, whose do you? By nightfall most of the castle belonged to Nebris, and he reclined, as if born a prince, on the Cracked Throne.


End file.
